


We Must Not Look at Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruit

by LogicalBookThief



Series: One and a Half Stans AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, based on the One and a Half Stans AU on tumblr, check it out it's awesome!, de!aged Stan, manipulative!Bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicalBookThief/pseuds/LogicalBookThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Believing that his brother hates him, a vulnerable, de-aged Stanley flees to the woods. And who should happen upon him but a certain dream demon, eager to help his little friend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Must Not Look at Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to thesnadger and disappeareddraws on tumblr, who made the 'One and a Half Stans' AU as fabulous as it is. Seriously, check out their art, it's amazing!
> 
> Basically, a continuation of this http://disappeareddraws.tumblr.com/post/124975673137 (with some of the dialogue taken directly from the comic) but with a 'what-if' twist. Like, what if Bill Cipher was already friendly with lil!Stan and found him upset and alone after overhearing Ford?

_Alone. Yes, that’s the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle and hell is only a poor synonym_ \- Stephen King

* * * *

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t care. He had never ventured this far into the forest without Dipper or Mabel. _It was too dangerous_ , they claimed, and for all that the twins loved to have fun, they wouldn’t budge on this matter. _**Monsters** lurk in these woods._

Nothing he might encounter could compare to the truth he’d witnessed, the truth that had slipped from his brother’s lips while Stan eavesdropped behind the door, unseen and unnoticed.

_“Getting kicked out, living in his car, going to prison…”_

Listening as the truth about him and his brother bled onto the blank pages of his memory, a re-opened wound oozing into a story untold.

_“…and then he shoved me into a portal and stole my identity for 30 years!”_

Each word a knife to his heart, a cut that couldn’t be fixed by Mabel’s colorful band-aids or stickers. He knew there were secrets between him and this older, solemner version of his brother, something that had Ford keeping his distance. Yet he never imagined something so awful-

_“I **hated** Stan for so long…”_

Stan had to get out after that, had to run, somewhere deep into the woods, someplace the words and the pain they wrought couldn’t find him.

He was no longer running, feet exhausted, hands sore from taking is sorrow and frustration out on a tree until his eyes had blurred with tears, and still he’d thrust his fist out blindly, hitting empty air, and finally allowing the momentum to carry him to the ground, where he’d curled into a ball and sobbed.

And there he remained, a weeping mess, wondering how he could ever make things better when everything had fallen apart.

 _It can’t be_. Lying, even to himself, was always a comfort, a way of lessening the blows when they came. _Ford would never hate me, not in million years!_

 _But…it makes sense!_ Denial wouldn’t work now, not when he had heard it with his own two ears. _Ford acts so weird around me, like he doesn’t want me around, like he doesn’t even like me anymore. M-Maybe he does hate me._

And with that revelation came the next leap of logic, terrifying in its simplicity.

_Maybe he doesn’t care about me anymore._

“What’s a'matter, kid?” asked a familiar voice, appearing out of nowhere. The forest, quiet except for a boy’s sobs, seemed to shudder at its arrival. “Why’re your eyes leaking like that?”

“Oh. Hi, Bill,” Stan choked out, swallowing to dispel the hoarseness from his throat. “Some dirt in my eyes, is all. I’m not crying, if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” he said in a stern, watery voice. “Pop says real men don’t cry.”

“HA! Men don’t cry. What a load of bologna,” Bill chortled, floating over to Stan’s side. “I’ve been around a lot longer than your Pop, kiddo, and lemme tell you something: You fleshy humans cry all the same, male or female, young or old. Nothing to feel bad about - when you get right down to it, you’re just a big sack of emotions like everyone else!”

“Thanks…I think,” Stan replied uncertainly. He felt a little less like a crybaby, at least.

“So what has your eyes leaking, anyhow?” Bill questioned. “Come on, you can tell your good pal, Bill! Maybe I can help.”

“Probably not,” said Stan forlornly, a bitter snort escaping. “Unless you can make my brother not hate me.”

“Ooh, mind control! You’re in luck, mental manipulation is my specialty!” Bill proclaimed jovially. “I can make ‘em sing, make 'em dance, make 'em laugh and say _I love you_ 'til they’re blue in the face.” He paused, thoughtfully. “Although I suppose you’re looking for something with a bit more sincerity.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, smiling, yet the expression hung by a mere thread. “Thanks, anyway.” Then his lower lip trembled, and against his will, more tears slid down his cheeks.

“Hey, now,” said Bill kindly, adopting a no-nonsense tone. “Chin up, chum. Tell me what your smarty pants brother did to make you so upset.”

“I - I heard - ” His breath hitched, lungs straining to keep another bout of sobs at bay, the confession pouring out like tears instead, “I knew he was hiding _something,_ 'cause he always tells me everything, but not now. S-So I listened and he said - said we never set sail like were supposed to. That we fought and separated and that he _hated_ me, when we got older.”

Stan closed his eyes, wishing this nightmare would end, that he would wake up and discover it was all some crazy dream. “Everything went wrong and nothing’s how it was supposed to be. We promised we would be together _forever.”_

Bill nodded sagely. “That’s the thing about adults,” he explained, slightly sympathetic but mostly matter-of-fact. “You learn that when they make promises, they don’t really mean it. Adults are the shams of the world, the most graceful con-artists you’ll ever meet, and the worst part? They get away with it scotch free!”

Stan sniffled. “Adults are mean jerks,” he declared petulantly, rubbing at his runny nose.

“No arguments here,” Bill chirped. And then, ever so casually he threw out, “'Course, I’d be sore too if my brother shoved me into a portal.”

All the muscles in his back tensed simultaneously, and Stan looked tentatively at Bill, a cold spike of fear in his chest. “I-I actually did that?”

“Right after he gave you that burn on your back,” Bill confirmed.

“Burn?” Stan repeated faintly. “Mabel said…”

“Mabel _lied,”_ said Bill ruthlessly, striking fast and deep. “Don’t be surprised, she’s practically a teenager! That’s when kids start to become lazy, lying adults.”

Disillusioned and dreading, small fingers probed at his shoulder blade, where his 'super awesome tattoo’ lay. “D-Did it hurt?”

“Ever burn yourself on a stove?” Stan nodded. “Wellll…imagine that, except a _thousand_ times worse, a white hot, _**scalding**_ pain that sears through clothes ingrains itself into your _skin.”_

Stan blanched, quickly retracting his fingers. “The-Then I stole his identity for 30 years…so I was alone all that time?”

“No,” answered Bill, allowing Stan the briefest relief, only to snatch it away. “You were alone for _much_ longer. Ever since dear ole Pop kicked you out of the house.”

“W-What?” Stan gasped in disbelief. He couldn’t envision Pop - strict, unbending, but loving deep down, wanting the best for his sons - no, it had to be a mistake, a misunderstanding. “He wouldn’t- Ford wouldn’t let-”

“Let it happen?” Bill continued. “Are you kidding? He was so mad he wanted you _gone._ After all, you did kind of cost him his dream school.”

His triangular body became a screen, a window of sorts, into which Stan could see it as it occurred in the future (or was it the past?) from the accidentally destroyed science project to Ford shutting the curtains, shutting his brother out of his life.

Stan watched with a distant, mounting sense of horror, the kind that came from hearing the approach of a storm on the weather report. Except that the storm was inside of him, fierce and raging, with blasts of icy wind and torrents of rain and flood waters threatening to rise.

“Listen, kid, you don’t need him,” Bill soothed, and if he had hands, he might have pat him on the back. “Okay, so you’re not the smart twin and you don’t have any extraordinary talents or any real friends, and hey, cruel reality has smashed the only dream you ever had.”

Stan sunk further into despair, shivering with cold and misery.

“Hey, if it will cheer you up, what about this: _I’ll_ be your friend forever.” The offer sound so sweet, a genie dangling water in front of a thirsty wanderer. “We can go on adventures, travel the world - whatever you like! I promise.”

“You said adults never keep their promises,” said Stan skeptically, even as his heart leapt with hope.

“And that’s true,” Bill maintained. “However, I am an incorporeal being of pure energy, not _technically_ an adult, so you can trust me to keep my word.”

“Makes sense,” the boy mumbled, conceding the point.

“And when I say forever, I mean _forever,”_ Bill emphasized. “I won’t abandon you for any college, research or physical attachments, no siree!”

At the reference to his brother, Stan winced. Was this a betrayal? No matter how much Ford hated him, no matter if his brother wished he was gone, could he leave him forever? He still loved his brother and _that_ had to count for something. And now there was Dipper, Mabel, Soos, Wendy and Waddles to consider, too…

Sensing his indecision, Bill added, “The chance to live eternally with a being such as myself isn’t handed to humans all willy-nilly, ya know. For you, though, I’m willing to make an exception. All you have to do is prove you’re worthiness. A test of bravery and skill, if you will.”

“I-I dunno,” Stan stuttered, heartsick and confused, tired from crying and pretty darn hungry, come to think of it. It was too much, all of a sudden, and he wished for nothing more than a warm bed he could crawl into and forget. “It sounds nice… Forever’s a long time, though. A-And I couldn’t come back, could I? Not ever.”

“Look, I don’t have all day for you to make up your mind. I assumed you would jump at the chance to change your future into something worth looking at, seeing as your family’s kicked you to the curb,” said Bill airily. Like any good salesman, he knew how to turn the tables, to use people’s weaknesses against them for his own gain.

“But if you would rather return to the Shack and wait for everyone to leave, be my guest.” And then he turned away.

“Wait!” Stan cried desperately. “Please, I want to! I want to have friend forever! Whatever it takes, I’ll do it!” Anything was better than being left alone. “I’ll prove I’m worthy! J-Just don’t leave…”

Bill turned, a gleam of glee in his single eye. “Great! You won’t regret this, buddy, believe me! You and me, pal, we’re going to have the time of our lives when this is all through.”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and Stan found himself smiling past the lump in his throat, red-rimmed eyes drying in the cool evening air. “What do I have to do?”

“Oh, nothing too difficult. Not for a kid as clever as you,” said Bill unconcernedly, and his faith in Stan was bracing, easing the boy’s troubled mind. “There’s a certain monster that lives not too far from here…”

**Author's Note:**

> Ambiguous ending that may or may not be continued. Just picture the gang back at the Shack realizing that Stan is missing or Ford's reaction to the news that his brother’s been communicating with Cipher. Or perhaps a prequel to Bill and lil!Stan’s first meeting. Hnng so many ideas...


End file.
